Change of Seasons
by SherlockedUntilDeath
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler decides to part when the sentiment is too much for them to bear. Will they ever accept a life without the other, and how will Irene live on knowing she has betrayed herself by loving another human-being. Someone she could never have. Two-shot. Sherlock/Irene. Angsty.
1. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry." He said in a low, hesitant voice. She didn't answer him. He took a deep breath and curled up on his side. The silence between the two of them was thick, heavy and unwanted. A hand was reached out, touching the back of a neck. He tensed.

"I will never forget you." Irene shakily whispered. Sherlock decided to not face her yet, assuming she was crying. He opened his mouth, several times, without saying anything.

"I just…" Her tone was suddenly strong and controlled again. "I will miss you." The weight of a body got up from the bed and he could hear her hurried footsteps walk around the room, collecting her clothes and belongings.

"I'm sorry." He repeated. The footsteps ceased.

"Why?" She sharply replied.

"It's just that… I guess I'll miss you too."

Silence.

"I don't have to go."

"You have to go." He disagreed at once.

"It's your choice." She sighed, and quickly applied her usual make up. The mask that isolated and protected her from the rest of the world. Her eyeliner and mascara. Sherlock scrutinized her thin gestalt in the hall mirror. She met his gaze and swirled around, her hand hugging the lipstick tightly.

"I…" He looked away. "I cannot." She put on her shoes, and walked over to the closed door. She raised her hand, resting it on the door handle. She gazed at the tall, slender man in the bed. "I won't leave John. I won't leave _me._ How can you even consider sharing a life with me? Alone is what I have, alone protects me." She nodded in agreement. They could never give up themselves for each other, she should have realised earlier.

"I don't need your pity, or your explanation." He recognized the voice. Cold. Unemotional. Shattered.

"I don't want them to have you." He gravely said and stared at the wall behind her. "You're not like the others. They will never understand you like I do."

"I love you, Sherlock." Irene susurrated. There was no desire or pressure behind the words, simply because they didn't matter.

"I know. I wish… I could have you." He admitted and buried his face in his hands. She didn't know what to say.

Irene turned around, now facing the door. As she was just about to leave, she sensed his gaze scanning her back. She held her breath and tried to ignore the urge to stay, to beg him for mercy. But how could she ever do that? She wouldn't, even if she wanted. Irene Adler could never be dependent on another human being. She exhaled and suddenly heard steps. A large hand slowly and tightly grasped her wrist. The distinct movement forced her body to turn around, to face him. He forcefully kissed her, crushed his lips against hers before she could object. Her head hit back and she suppressed a groan as the pain crept somewhere in distance.

"If only we had met first." He told her against her lips. "In another life." She nodded and pushed the door open.

"Goodbye." She sharply said. He touched her, hoping his fingers would remember the surface of her smooth, cold skin. Her scent still lingered heavily in the flat. He wondered if he ever would be able to let her go. Or to be more precise, he wondered if he ever would be able let the _thought_ of her go.

She left him. She hurried down the stairs, throwing herself out of the front door. She started running, as fast as she could in her ridiculously high heels. She brushed away something wet from her cheek.

A tear.

**AN: It's NOT like that; I still ship Sherlock/Irene harder than anything. You'll have to wait to the next part to grasp. You'll hear from me soon. Promise.**


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't forget her. She was always in his thoughts, torturing him. Her smell still lingered in the apartment, but after two years, Sherlock had understood that he was just imagining it. The whispers of her haunted him, though he denied his suffering. Yes, two years had passed but Irene Adler had never really disappeared out of Sherlock Holmes's life. He wondered if he had left hers.

Days became weeks, weeks became months and months became years. John had gotten married to a woman named Mary Morstan, and Sherlock couldn't stand her. Of course, he knew why. He always knew, that was his curse. She reminded him of _her_. They had different personality types and different looks, but there was something about the way she _moved_, the sparkle in her eyes and her smile that made Sherlock's shattered heart ache.

Sherlock slowly vanished out of John and Mary's lives, though he still met them fleetingly. They were expecting when he met John at 221B Baker Street in a crispy autumn afternoon.

…

Irene Adler had almost moved on, she continued practicing her odd lifestyle without thinking about _him_ constantly. Unlike Sherlock, she had the ability to heal. Unlike Sherlock, she was already broken when they first had met.

She felt empty, but that was nothing new. The feeling that scared her most was the love she felt for Sherlock Holmes, but she buried it deeply in her wrecked soul. She welcomed the world of BDSM again with a cold smile and a forceful whip, but Irene Adler never forgot. She never forgot the man she never could have.

…

"I will not take the case." Sherlock murmured. Lestrade grimaced.

"How so? It's really interesting this time. You'll like it."

"I will not take it." Lestrade sighed.

"What is it this time? I'll replace Anderson?"

"Leave. I will not take the case." Lestrade looked flabbergasted, but obeyed when Sherlock shot him a piercing glance. "Call me when you've got something else."

When Lestrade had left, muttering something about "stubborn" and "impossible", Sherlock swiftly looked at the file. Woman, twenty-three, inappropriate video, dominatrix. It was _her_, without a doubt. He would not take this case. He _could _not take this case.

"I guess you haven't missed me then." A cold voice said from behind. He swirled around, and searched the familiar gray eyes he knew would hide in the dark. She came out of the darkness almost as gracefully as fog and took the seat opposite Sherlock. The seat that once belonged to John.

"Now tell me, where's the dear doctor?"

"Gone. Moved half a year ago." He sharply said. Her gaze was too cold, too hard and too unemotional. She didn't resemble the Irene Adler who had left him very much. "Why are you here?"

"You will not take the case?"

"No."

"I will leave then." She smirked. "You will not destroy this. Leave me alone." Irene turned around and effortlessly climbed out of the already open window. She was now standing on the roof, dangerously close to the edge. Her hair fluttered in the wind. The silence hung between them as a thick cloak.

"What happened to you, Irene?" Sherlock murmured. She slowly turned around, and her eyes were suddenly filled with grief. "You let me down, Sherlock." She reminded him. Her pale face was expressionless when she reached out her hand. "Kiss me." Sherlock walked up to her immediately, without reflecting upon his actions. He gently embraced her thin body and kissed her.

The kiss was wrong. There was nothing behind it, no tension and no passion. Not even hate. He pulled away and let go of her. She smiled humorlessly.

"How could I ever live with myself if I fell for another human being? And he didn't even want me." She spat. Sherlock closed his eyes.

"How can you come back here and torture me more?" He said, his voice smoldering with rage.

"You have never felt true pain, Sherlock Holmes." Irene hissed.

"Shut up." His entire body was trembling with unwanted emotion.

"You have never felt the way I did. The way I do."

"What do you feel then?" He yelled and walked away from the window, facing the wall in his homemade laboratory. As it started to rain, Irene took a deep breath and turned away her face. Neither of them was looking at the other.

"Nothing. I don't feel anything anymore." Irene whispered. "My heart will always belong to you and you alone. I wish things were different between the two of us. But it is too late."

"Even if it wasn't too late, what would you want me to do? We could never be together, you deserve someone better." He said bitterly.

"I don't deserve anyone. I am destroyed forever."

"Don't put it like that."

"It is the truth."

"I love you."

"I know." Irene replied. "Sadly, that doesn't change anything." Sherlock stared at her.

"I…" He struggled to grasp the concept she was presenting. He knew that they never could be together in _that _way, but she had always been a part of him. A part of his heart.

"You will always be the one." He finished lamely and walked over to the window again. Her clothes were soaked because of the rain. He touched her face, as he had all those years ago in the same apartment they were in now. Still no sparkle, still no desire. Still no Irene.

"You're so cold." He didn't know if he meant it literally or figuratively speaking.

"I know."

"How will you get down from this roof?" He asked her anxiously.

"I'll figure something out. Goodbye." Irene said. Sherlock nodded, her well-being was certainly none of his business anymore. "Mr. Holmes." She added after a couple of seconds.

He couldn't even pretend to smile. "Goodbye Ms. Adler." He gravely said and strolled over to the door. He opened it and heard her muffled farewell as he left the room, and the remaining pieces of his heart. Doomed to be alone, and unloved, Sherlock Holmes met Irene Adler's grey and piercing eyes a last time before he quickly closed the door behind him.

"Goodbye."

This was the story of Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler, and this is how it ends.

**AN: I hate everything today, so I decided to be Steven Moffat. Hate on me.**


End file.
